GBMW II Photos: Phoenix 1999 GBMW III Photos: Hollywood 2001
The Glen Buxton Memorial Weekend |
Since 1997 I've heard and read so many wonderful memorial thoughts on G.B..
It has been an overwhelming climax of appreciation for the blonde bomber that I
had already been experiencing since his passing. For that was the day I put
my first memorial to him online. It has been online and growing since.
Eventually, through the help of my friend James Saqui, it found it's home at
www.GlenBuxton.com and shall always stay there. Being in charge of this project
made me the recipient of loads of touching stories from all over the world.
I didn't know G.B. for long, but the thrill and having met this wonderful
man who's music I respected so much was still very fresh when word came to
me that he was gone. It was only seven days after working with him to provide
any little bit of assistance I could for him to play a semi-reunion show with
Michael Bruce and Neal Smith, along with the emporer Richie Scarlet, the high
was still very much in me and the news met it like an atomic explosion between
the two emotions. Such a high to such a low so quickly. I was truly
devastated.
All the emotions got a chance to get restirred at the memorial weekend.
It's taken me a few days of recovery to be able to come up with these
words. If you were there, I think you understand. If you weren't, I
don't know if billion dollar words could help you live the experience.
It was even more than I had anticipated it would be. Knowing that I
wanted to relate the experience to those many many fans who have written
me, I made plans to find a digital camera and try to show the experience
to the world of those who couldn't attend by sending pictures through the
internet via my conveniently addressed site with unlimited disk space.
I didn't have much luck chasing down someone else's camera. I knew if
this happened, I would buy or rent one despite the fact that I'm hopelessly
in debt. I did. Being a computer geek kinda guy, I knew what features I
wanted. I grabbed all sorts of odds'n'ends and drove the familiar 848
mile drive that I drove straight through to attend the funeral. I had a
odd carload full of memorabilia and equipment. I had a lot on my mind and
had already travelled 30 miles before I realized I forgot my laptop PC.
Without hestitation, I turned back for I could not update the photos online
without it. It turned out I got all the way there before realizing I also
had forgotten a bag containing camcorder accessories, soothing Jack
Daniels whiskey, my regular camera, blank videotapes and Sharpie pens for the
autograph seekers. I obviously had heavy thoughts clouding my mind.
I arrived at 1 AM. The motel rooms were all darkened and occupied. I did not
think they could be fully booked in this little town on a Thursday night,
but they were. And I only made reservations for Friday and Saturday. So I pulled
the car in their lot, got some cold beers out of the trunk and sat back with
the radio on and drank a toast to G.B.'s ghost. I entertained myself also by
doodling some thoughts about the experience on a piece of paper with a
black marker. As I got more relaxed, I threw the sleeping bag across the top
of the lowered cloth bucket car seat, took off my shoes and slept
comfortably with the adlibbed sign in the window behind a sun shade.
In the morning I walked into the hotel and wandered down the hallway. I
spotted the familiar face of Bill Risoli who introduced me to one man I was
very anxious to meet by the name of Paul Brenton. I knew from discussions
with both of them that they had big plans. I rode with them to the Pizza
Ranch where they proceeded to take over the entire back room with their
decorations of Glen's life with contributions from the Buxton family and
Brian "Renfield" Nelson as well as much of their own collections. Paul
had very nice name tags for every expected attendee and I helped arrange
them in alphabetical order on the table. I got back to the hotel after
awhile and tried for just a minute to get some rest before everything
started happening. Nothing doing... I got back up, showered, threw on my
"Cooper's Troopers" tee shirt, unpacked a little and headed back towards
the meet and greet room. I believe it was at this time that I saw Paul
outside the motel speaking to someone and stopped to ask if he had yet
stopped for lunch. He was having a conversation with none other than
John Speer, who was the early drummer of the band in the old days. When I
was introduced, I think I could only say "Oh, wow!". I was shaking yet
another hand of part of the whole Alice Cooper story. A now familiar feeling.
When I first saw Neal Smith, I was thrilled that he even remembered who I
was. He walked up and said "Nice to see you again" and that thill went
right up my spine at those particular words. It was right around this time
I started getting the slighty eerie but warm feeling that G.B. was with us.
I guess because the last two times I saw Neal was when I last saw G.B. and
at his funeral. Paul effectively put a face on this spirit as he created
posters of all sizes with Glen's face that got posted everywhere... the
hotel, the Pizza Ranch, and Little Willie's especially. I saw it at local
hardware stores, restaurants and a pharmacy also. As the sign I dribbled
on in the middle of the night stated, this was Buxtonville, not Clarion, on
this day.